Dragon souls and Stormcloaks
by JazzyKat
Summary: Ter'im, the khajiit Dragonborn, was not out to fall in love with Ulfric Stormcloak, the powerful high king of Skyrim and leader of the rebellion. Especially not when Ter'im was already married to Vilkas. As Ter'im fights for Skyrim, things go from heated to hot between the Dragonborn, his husband, and Jarl Ulfric. WARNING: SLASH AND THREESOME
1. Chapter 1

Alright, before you start throwing things, this plot bunny has been running rampant around my head for a bit, and Ter'im is based off of my real life character. I've always wanted to see a bit more depth to the stories and characters of Skyrim. If you can't tell, this one is Elder Scrolls: V. Note, this is gonna evolve into a M!DB/Ulfric Stormcloak/Vilkas, so if that don't float your boat, get out the boat. Other than that, enjoy!

-JazzyKat

* * *

Ter'im sighed under his breath as he pulled his battle worn and travel weary body to Windhelm, seeking Ulfric Stormcloak. The self proclaimed High King had sent him a message by courier a good fortnight ago, and Ter'im was just now getting around to answering the summons. He'd managed to work his way to a good position of power in this cold Nord world, with the Companions, College of Winterhold, and Dark Brotherhood titles under his belt, but he still found himself shying away from any true alliance to either side, although every time he saw one of the worthless Thalmor, he gritted his teeth and his blades sang for their blood. He'd finally decided to buckle down and take sides, after The Blades charged him with killing the one dragon he'd spoken peaceably with and he'd rebelled against their words, hurt and determined to spare the old dragon.

A guard's offhand comment brought Ter'im to the fact that he was about to smash against the door to the palace, and he swung out a hand in time to spare his whiskers from being squished against the heavy wooden door. He staggered his way inside; ignoring the way all present in the palace drew their weapons. He stopped in front of Ulfric and observed the formidable man. Ter'im felt a stirring in his groin at the sight of Ulfric as well as the aura that surrounded the man.

Ulfric motioned for the men to sheathe their weapons and spoke in a rough timber, "Stranger. What brings you into our midst?"

Ter'im smirked underneath his dragon priest mask before speaking, the mask distorting his voice. "You don't recognize the one whom you have courted for so long, Ulfric? I am the dragon born, Dovakhiin, Hero of the Ages and defeater of the World Eater."

Ulfric sat up straighter in his throne. "Are you now, how do we know you are the Dragon born? Remove your mask."

Ter'im smirked and pulled the mask away, his whiskers twitching in amusement at Ulfric's steward's gasp. He ignored the sound of weapons screeching out of their scabbards and stared into Ulfric's stormy eyes.

"Not what you expected, huh? No Nord hero to save the world this time," Ter'im taunted tapping an unsheathed claw against the mask he held in his hand.

Ulfric motioned for Galmar to put his weapon away and slowly raised a blonde eyebrow over his icy blue green eyes.

"The famed Dragon born is Kajhiit? What have these end times brought to us? I want to see your thu'um in action."

Ter'im merely flipped his tail before selecting a shout, bracing himself and letting loose.

He smiled when he felt himself go transparent and weightless. He didn't move as Galmar suddenly thrust a hand through the space where his chest should be and watched as Ulfric's eyebrows seemed to disappear into his hair line.

"Having fun, Stormcloak?" Ter'im deadpanned, trying to move away from Galmar before he phased back into mortal standings once more. Galmar grunted and put his hand back at his side as Ter'im rematerialized.

"I have heard of that shout before, yes, in my time with the Grey Beards, but why are you able to go completely transient? The most the Grey Beards could tell about the shout, one was not able to injure or be injured, not be completely phantom like." Ulfric breathed fascinated, sitting straighter in his throne.

"Perhaps I will spill my secrets to you soon enough, Jarl Ulfric. What say you about me joining the Stormcloaks?" Ter'im purred, shifting his weight to ease the pain in his left side.

"Why's a cat want to fight for Skyrim?" Galmar growled, stepping toward Ter'im. Almost immediately, Ter'im's inner eye flashed to those he'd seen dying slowly and painfully in his brief excursions with the Thalmor. Most of all, Ter'im remembered the one he truly cared about being tortured and then burned to death because his love would not betray him.

Giving a rough shake, Ter'im lifted memory haunted eyes to Galmar Stone-Fist's cold blue ones and answered, "Skyrim has been taken over by the low dogs the Thalmor truly are, they need to be stomped out before they take over us all. So long as I can lift a battleaxe or draw a bow, I will fight against the Imperials. Too many things have they taken from me, and it will continue no longer."

Ulfric shifted on his throne, bringing attention back to himself by humming. "I see no harm in it, Galmar, one more son of Skyrim on our side."

"Very well, Dragon born, to prove your worth, go out and kill an ice-wraith and bring me its teeth. You survive a battle with one of those cursed creatures; you are more than worthy to stand under the Stormcloak banner," Galmar spit out his title of dragon born as almost an insult.

Ter'im nodded and bowed, smiling curtly before pulling the mask back onto his face. He limped out of the palace and back out into the cold harshness of Windhelm.

"Ay, conjurer, conjure me up a warm bed and a belly full of mead." Ter'im's shoulder's stiffened, before he bit the inside of his cheek and continued on, ignoring the guard and his cackling buddies. He headed immediately toward the town gates, absently noting how dark it was and how difficult it would be to travel and see through the snow storm.

He was stopped by a heavy hand on his shoulder, and a heavily accented voice spoke in his ear, "Whoa, traveler, you'll not need to go out wandering on your own tonight. 'Tis best to wait out the storm in Candlehearth Hall. No need for us to go digging your body out of the snow."

Ter'im sighed and let the well meaning guard push him toward the inn, deciding that his health potion store was running low. The bar maid looked up as the heavy door swung inwards, and her harsh face relaxed a bit when she took in how ragged Ter'im looked.

"Hail, stranger, what brings you to Candlehearth Hall?"

"Ter'im is passing through on some business, might you have a room open?"

"Sure, it'll be ten coin. I'll show you the way."

Ter'im steadfastly ignored any hostile or curious glares he received and focused instead on the throbbing pain that increased with every footstep. He was grateful to get to the small but clean room and collapse on the straw mattress to eat a better meal than dry bread and cabbage. He waited until the bar maid left, shutting the door with a smooth click and Ter'im undid the buckles to his heavy armor. He was still working his way up to ebony armor, having only the bronzed dwarven on at the moment. He piled it as neatly as he could along with his weapons, keeping his favored war hammer near to him and slipping a dagger under his pillow. He drifted off, meaning to sleep lightly, but failing as his hurts and weariness overwhelmed him and he sank into oblivion.


	2. Chapter 2

Woo, Alright. Bit late on this one, sorry. Enjoy!

-JazzyKat

* * *

Ter'im snorted and grabbed his war hammer as he rolled off of the bed into an automatic crouch as the door to his room creaked open. He heard the bar maid from the night before snort unimpressed at the gesture as she placed a tray of warm food on the table.

"Morning, stranger. Brought you some food up before the guards gobbled it all down. Word around town says you're going to be joining the Stormcloaks, is that true?"

Ter'im straightened out and dropped the hammer carefully before offering the bar maid a sheepish look.

"Ter'im has agreed to go questing for Galmar Stone-fist, yes. Do all new recruits have to chase after these ice wraiths? Ter'im hasn't come across very many in his travels, but then again, he has stuck only to the plains of Whiterun."

"Sadly, yes. The ice wraith is quite a nasty beast and they use the quest to weed out the weak ones. I like you, stranger, so here." She handed Ter'im a worn map drawn on the back of a resist frost potion recipe.

She then hustled out of the room, a cold draft brining to Ter'im the fact he was nearly bare. Ter'im shrugged back into the bulky armor, whishing for ebony or daedric armor again, before scarfing down the warm stew and hunk of fresh bread. He turned to the map as he ate and he saw a standing stone marked. The scribbles along the margin of the map proclaimed to be the 'Serpent Stone' as well as providing several wraith hunting spots close to the stone.

Ter'im felt warmth curl through his chest at the woman's kindness and he turned to his meager pack and counted out 100 coin and lay in the tray. Ter'im gathered his things and headed out of the warm inn, hissing at the blast of cold air that greeted him.

Ter'im barely managed to make his way to the gates before he heard guards shouting against the wind.

"No one's getting out. Snow's piled too high."

Ter'im sighed and rolled his eyes before pushing at the gates and squeezing his way through, despite the guards' protests. Snow was coming down in thick sheets and Ter'im was frozen completely through to the bone before long. The cold of the snow thankfully kept his wounds from hurting at all as Ter'im tracked through the tundra, tripping over foxes and tree trunks.

He'd had a brief run in with a saber cat and had gathered some new scratches to deal with, but thought nothing of it until he was slugging along tiredly the next morning. 'Frost trolls are fucking dicks,' Ter'im found himself thinking after killing the fourth one and using up the last of his unfilled soul gems on the troll. Finally Ter'im stumbled across the stone, nearly weeping in delight at seeing it. He'd already caught the strange hissing noise that wraiths made and was ready swinging his hammer in the general direction the sound came from. Apparently, he made contact, because he heard an unearthly hiss and the sound of ice shattering. In the next instance, Ter'im felt blazing pain across his cheek under his eye and he flung himself backwards with a curse and struck out blindly once again.

He missed and the beast managed to catch Ter'im across his eye. Ter'im in a panic flung himself under a rock outcropping and hunkered down, blinking blood out of his eye and trying to determine if he could still see out of it.

Blurry images showed and Ter'im sagged in relief, adrenaline rushing through him as he heard the wraith near once again. He lay perfectly still and held his breath as the creature inched forward. After a few breathless moments, he swung out, catching the wraith and wounding it a great deal. It hovered in place, searching for Ter'im, and he seized his opportunity and whaled away at the ice wraith until finally the creature screeched out in death and its body exploded into a pile of ice.

Ter'im numbly rooted through the pile of ice, shaking from cold and nerves, grasping the dangerous looking teeth left behind and curling them into his palm, despite the fact they blazed so cold against his fur they burned.

Ter'im wrapped the teeth in a strip of old leather he found at the bottom of his bag and continued on down the mountain until he spotted a running stream. Blood from his eye had already dried and caked onto his fur, so he sighed and turned away from the stream and started hunting for the main road.

He walked for ages before he found a road sign and as it turned out, he'd been walking in the wrong direction. So, tired, cold and sick Ter'im turned around and continued walking. When night fell, he kept on moving, having run out of supplies and the presence of mind to camp for the night.

After agonizing hours of walking, Ter'im could finally see Windhelm in the distance, and the sight of the city brought tears to his eyes as he pushed himself even harder to make it back to the city. He managed to cross the bridge before he was spotted by any guard or citizen.

Ter'im heard horrified gasps behind him, but he ignored them, his only purpose right now was to turn in the damned teeth he still clenched in his hands and then sleep for a good month. He marched determinedly up to the Palace of the Kings, flung the door open much more violently than was needed, and stomped up to Galmar at his position at the great table.

Galmar turned away from his meal and looked up at Ter'im towering over him.

"So, the new recruit returns. Where are the teeth, milk drinker?" Galmar mocked, choking on his laughter as Ter'im placed the teeth in his palm.

"There, Galmar. Is that all you wanted?" Ter'im sneered sarcastically.

Galmar threw his head back and laughed along with Ulfric.

"I like this one, Ulfric. I think we should keep him." Galmar remarked as he caught his breath.

"Indeed, although I am curious about the blood over your eye, Dragonborn, surely that's not your own is it?" Ulfric asked, his eyes glittering in the candlelight with a cold and calculating power.

"It is." Ter'im said meeting Ulfric's gaze before his leg buckled. Ter'im would have hit the floor, had Ulfric not leapt to his feet the second he saw Ter'im start to teeter.

Ter'im found himself nestled against warmth with his nose buried in the scent that was Ulfric; ice, blood and musk. Ter'im fought against the urge to snuggle into Ulfric as his world darkened.


	3. Chapter 3

Alright, a bit of a Thanksgiving treat for you guys. Hope you enjoy!

-JazzyKat

* * *

Ter'im groaned as bright sunlight made his eyes sting and burn, waking him up from the warm darkness. A moment later, heavy steps sounded and the light disappeared, leaving Ter'im to relax once more. The footsteps drew closer and Ter'im frowned, stopping with a distressed noise when his face prickled with pain and felt stretched and wrong.

The pulling of his face finally caused Ter'im to wake up fully, sitting up and faltering as the pain slammed into him as he moved around. Ter'im fell back with a sharp cry and a velvet voice shushed him as warm hands guided him back against some soft pillows. Ter'im turned toward the warm body instinctually and he nearly shivered when he heard Ulfric's rough timber low and soft close to his sensitive ears.

"Easy there, Dragonborn. You hid more wounds than I thought was possible. Your brush with the ice wraiths faired you no better. I would not have sent you after the beast if I had some other way of proving your loyalty to me and my cause," Ulfric muttered apologetically, as he tucked Ter'im back under the covers. Ter'im lay still, his eyes pressed firmly closed and allowed the blonde to tuck him back into the nest of furs with no complaints.

"You gave all of us quite a scare. I never thought I'd see the day when Galmar would run so fast. How did you come by your wounds?" Ulfric continued stepping close enough to the bed that Ter'im could smell that unique musk that was purely Ulfric that made his head spin and his thoughts fuzz.

Ter'im drew in a breath and he reminded himself of his beautiful Vilkas before answering as best as he could, "My mask is more than just a mask, Ulfric Stormcloak. It was protected by scores of Nord undead, traps and puzzles. Above all, the mask was protected by the Dragon Priest that wore it before me. Tell me, Ulfric Stormcloak, do you believe in Dragon Priests?"

Ulfric scoffed, "No, what reasons do I have to believe in them. They ruled Skyrim thousands of years ago, yes? They died with the cult King Harald's men found in the First Era."

"You should start. Their followers buried with them have allowed the priests to maintain life after all these years, and now that Alduin has started stirring, they have started stirring again. I stumbled across one of the priests, clearing out a den of dragur and managed to slay the creature, but was wounded severely. I fear that they will be a much larger problem than some weak Imperials in the long run." Ter'im stated solemnly.

"By the nine, these things are desecrating our dead and no one knows about it? What do you mean by they were waiting for Alduin?" Ulfric breathed, incredulously.

"You Nords aren't known for being the most observant of all races. The Dragon Priests served Dragons, and swore to wait until Alduin the World Eater returned." Ter'im remarked.

Ter'im heard Ulfric huff and scrub a hand over his beard. "We will have to look into this problem. Thank you for telling me about it."

A heavy silence reigned until Ulfric broke the tension, "We sent word to Whiterun for your husband; he should be here within a week. We truly thought the healer wasn't going to be able to save you from Sovngarde, cat. Perhaps when he arrives, we can have a talk between the three of us, yes?"

Ter'im slit open his good eye, squinting at Ulfric through layers of bandages and raised an eyebrow at him. Ulfric grinned ruefully and shook his head, amused at Ter'im's look and settled himself on the edge of the bed.

Ulfric drew a finger over Ter'im's bandaged hand, bringing the pain in Ter'im's palm to attention for the first time since he woke. "What-?" Ter'im started to ask, pulling his hand closer and making as if to pull the bandages off, but Ulfric caught Ter'im's hand in his own and tugged it away gently.

"The teeth burned nearly through your hand, Dragonborn. What possessed you to carry them all the way back in your palm?"

"I wasn't paying attention; I was in pain and wanted to get back to Windhelm. Letting go of the teeth seemed unimportant at the time."

Ulfric seemed unimpressed by the answer and looked as if he didn't quite believe Ter'im, but he left the subject alone and stood. "Whatever the reason, stories of you have made my entire army worship the ground you walk. Do not fail me, Dragonborn. You are one of the only things holding my men together."

Ter'im settled back with a slight groan, his head swimming as he tried to make sense of everything they'd discussed and he decided that sleep would be best for him. Ulfric noticed Ter'im's discomfort and he drew a shroud over the palace window. Ter'im hadn't paid much mind to where he was, but looking around, it appeared that he was spread out across Ulfric's own bed; rich woods and glittering weapons scattered around made the room seem warm despite the harsh cold of outside. Ter'im felt his whiskers twitch and made to apologize to Ulfric for monopolizing his bed, but the Nord held up a hand and stopped him.

"Think nothing of it, Dragonborn. I've always dreamed of having someone as powerful as you sprawled out in my furs, but under different circumstances, of course. Rest, heal and when you are able to stand on your own two feet again, we'll discuss your part in this war." Ulfric turned and strode out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. Ter'im waited a beat before sitting up slowly and moving around a bit. He spotted a tray of food at the bedside table, and with a bit of fire magika channeled into his fingertips, heated the food back up and scarfed it down, unaware that Ulfric had paused and left the door open a fraction to watch Ter'im.

Ter'im finished with his meal and tried a half-hearted healing spell before his magika ran out and he slumped back into the bed, exhausted once more.


	4. Chapter 4

Alrightie, another chapter. If you guys want to see anything specific with the storyline, go ahead and message me about it. I will be going a bit off storyline, so I hope you'll like it. Oh, and consider this a Chrismahanuqwuanzas qift.

Jazzy

* * *

A week later, as promised, Vilkas was shown into Ulfric's bedroom to Ter'im's sleeping form. The healer had fought with Ter'im all week about bed rest and the feisty old woman had finally resorted to bribing him to stay in bed.

Vilkas took in the sight of his recovering husband, frowning once he noticed how thin Ter'im was and how ragged his coat looked in the firelight. Ulfric, his cold eyes glittering, watched the emotions flow across Vilkas's face and finally spoke.

"He is healing. You support his decision to follow me in the war?"

"Ter'im will go about his own way of doing things, whether I like it or not. I support him in his decisions because I love him."

Ulfric nodded to himself and motioned Vilkas to the other side of the bed.

"He is not allowed out of bed until our healer commands it. Please keep him from impeding his own recovery."

Vilkas lowered his chin in response to UIfric's command and then asked snidely, "Do all injured soldiers get a trip to your bed, then?"

Ulfric barked out a short laugh at Vilkas's hostile words and shook his golden mane around him.

"Only the powerful ones. Please, don't be a stranger. Eat with us at the main table tonight."

With that, Ulfric shut the door to his room with a soft thump and headed to find Galmar. Vilkas pulled off his wolf armor and settled into the furs next to his sleeping husband. Ter'im snuggled into the extra warmth unconsciously and Vilkas buried his nose in the fur under Ter'im's ear. The two lay entwined until finally Ter'im stirred and muttered sleepily, "Vilkas?"

"I'm here love. You worried me Ter'im. From the Stormcloak's letter, you sounded already dead and they needed me to claim your body." Vilkas whispered roughly, tightening his arms around Ter'im's waist gently.

"I'm so sorry Vilkas. I was attacked by a dragon priest and was so mad at Delphine and Esbern that I was not thinking clearly. I never wanted to hurt you." Ter'im rolled over at stroked at Vilkas's haggard face.

"What did they do to upset you so much, love?"

"They ordered me to kill Paarthurnax. They couldn't see past the fact that he'd once stood behind Alduin to see how much the old one still helps the grey beards. If I didn't have to deal with them to defeat the World Eater, my blades would bathe in their blood instead."

Vilkas stroked at one of Ter'im's ears and wiped at the tears that streamed down his love's face tenderly and hushed his crying softly. Once Ter'im was calm, Vilkas gently helped him sit up and arranged him back against the pillows before proceeding to feed him supper.

Ter'im whined in the back of his throat, but allowed Vilkas to feed him the warm food and grimaced at the sight of his dirty and matted fur. Vilkas laughed quietly at Ter'im's face and leaned in for a kiss, then redressed in his armor.

"I promise once I've appeased Ulfric and eaten that I'll take you for a bath. Just stay here and rest and I'll be back in no time at all."

Ter'im pouted, but nodded his acceptance. "Don't let Ulfric goad you during dinner tonight," he warned Vilkas softly before the larger man made it out of the room.

"Don't worry about me love. Just rest," Vilkas soothed and then headed down stairs to the main room of the palace.

As always, a great fire was roaring and scores of influential men and women were gorging themselves at the table. Vilkas hesitated just inside the doorway, unsure of where to sit, when Ulfric caught his eye and motioned for him to set down on his left side. Vilkas's eyes widened at the significance of the move, but trusted Ulfric and strode unhurriedly to the table.

Ulfric held up his chalice once Vilkas had settled, bringing all conversation to a stop.

"I welcome Vilkas, dragonborn's husband to our great table this night. With the addition of the Dragonborn, our cause is fortified and the Imperial dogs will fall at our feet." He drank from his cup, prompting the others to follow muttering, "To the Dragonborn."

Vilkas sipped at his wine as well, hiding his smirk with the rim of the cup. The conversations resumed around the table and Vilkas allowed himself to be drawn into a conversation about the Skyforge with Galmar. Wine flowed freely throughout the night and Vilkas felt the edges of his vision blur and his stomach clenched with need for Ter'im.

Finally the heat grew too much for him to handle and he excused himself from the table, feeling Ulfric's eyes burning on his backside as he made his way to prepare Ter'im a bath. Ter'im was lying back breathing softly when Vilkas returned for him.

Vilkas crept closer to the bed and gently shook at Ter'im shoulder to wake him. Ter'im started awake, but relaxed when he saw it was only Vilkas.

"You've been drinking quite a bit tonight, my Vilkas. You smell of wine."

Vilkas grinned unapologetically at Ter'im and scooped him up.

"I have, love. I would have continued had I not needed you," Vilkas groaned into Ter'im's ear, rolling his hips up against Ter'im's rear.

Ter'im squeaked and ground down against his lover who moaned and hurried his steps. Vilkas shooed the servants from the bathing room and undressed Ter'im from his bandages carefully before lowering him in the lukewarm water.

Ter'im shivered and with a quick spark of his magika heated the water to warm his fur and steam up the room. Ter'im settled back against the rim of the wooden tub and watched with burning eyes as Vilkas pulled off the heavy bits to his armor as quickly as he could manage it.

Ter'im moaned lowly when he took in the muscled form of his husband and traced the path of new scars that littered Vilkas's chest with his eyes. Vilkas nudged Ter'im to scoot up in the tub and slid into the hot water behind him. Vilkas rocked up against Ter'im's back once before he could control himself, but calmed his body and focused on washing the grime off of his love's body.

Ter'im sighed and relaxed into Vilkas's hands, hissing when Vilkas drug the cloth over his wounds. Soon, Vilkas pressed his thumbs into Ter'im's neck and started rubbing the tension out of his lover. Ter'im leaned back into Vilkas's strong hands and melted into a puddle of pleasure.

His mind was fogged from the delicious feelings, so he gave a start when he felt Vilkas's hand wrap around his length. Vilkas kept his strokes long and firm and soon enough Ter'im was crying out his release. He slumped back against Vilkas's strong chest and dozed as he felt Vilkas rock his hips against his back before stilling with a hoarse shout.

Ter'im stirred when he felt Vilkas lift him from the tub and softly towel him dry. He lay wrapped up in the towel, nearly asleep while Vilkas redressed himself and gathered new bandages.

Vilkas quietly bandaged Ter'im back up and toted his little love back to bed. Ter'im woke up long enough to whisper, "I love you Vilkas," and Vilkas kissed him on the forehead. Ter'im curled around Vilkas's form and truly fell asleep, and Vilkas buried his face in Ter'im's chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart as he embraced dreamland as well.


	5. Chapter 5

Alrighties guys, here is another chapter for you just because my birthday is in like 6 days. Enjoy!

* * *

Ter'im woke next with a strange feeling in his gut. His whisker's twitched a couple of times while he tried to dredge himself from dreamland. When he finally wrested his eyes open, he saw the usual courier that most everyone employed, but for some strange reason, the lad wasn't dressed in much more than a breechcloth, a pair of gloves and a cowl.

Ter'im blinked at the courier, looked over at Vilkas's sleeping form and turned back to the courier.

"Yes? Can Ter'im help you?"

"Oh, right, I have a message here for your eyes only. It's from Calcemo in Markarth, says he wants to see you about a Dwarven artifact. That's it."

Ter'im hummed in his throat and then with a snap and a few sparks sent the half naked courier scurrying out of the bedroom with a squeal. Ulfric poked his head around the doorframe moments later.

"Why was there a naked courier fleeing from this direction?"

Ter'im raised an eyebrow and unobtrusively slid his still sparking hand under the covers. "I haven't the slightest clue, I do know that I've seen more of him than I would have liked."

Ulfric squinted at Ter'im suspiciously, but let the matter drop and pushed his way into the room.

"Who has sent for you, Dragonborn? I see that shadow in your eyes."

"A court wizard of Markarth, Calcemo. He dabbles in Dwemer artifacts and sticking his nose in where it doesn't belong. I shouldn't be gone longer than a fortnight."

Ulfric dipped his head and then glanced over at Vilkas. "You plan on taking your husband with you on your journey?" Ulfric's tone was soft, but Ter'im heard the underlying question and jealousy in Ulfric's voice.

"No, I will leave him here under your care. He is capable enough of handling himself, but I do not wish for him to see the darker sides of me. Markarth has become a dark blot on my person and I'd prefer to keep him innocent to some things. Is this acceptable, Ulfric?"

"Indeed it is, Dragonborn. I believe your husband and I shall find ways to pass the days away, but you truly trust me with him?" Ulfric drawled while drawing a cold finger down Vilkas's side through the thin linen undershirt Vilkas wore to bed.

Ter'im followed the path of Ulfric's finger with heated eyes before tearing himself away from the tempting sight and answered the question lowly.

"Of course. I trust that you won't cause him unnecessary grief while I'm gone, if you ever want me in your bed again, that is."

Ulfric frowned and pouted, but agreed to Ter'im's demand and drew a fur back over Vilkas.

"Fine, if you are not back in the city after two weeks, I will send out a search party. Do not tarry."

Ter'im nodded, his eyes glowing in the candlelight.

Vilkas chose this moment to wake and cut the rising tension building in the room.

"Ter'im? Whazgoinon?" Vilkas muttered sleepily, burrowing his face farther into his pillow.

Ter'im laughed at his husband and stroked Vilkas's hair back away from his face.

"Nothing, love. Couriers apparently forget to dress while delivering messages."

"Was he naked again? We had one for Kodlak and I thought Aela would gut the poor man before he could get through the front door to Jorrvaskr." Waking up a bit now, Vilkas had the sense to blush at Ulfric's heavy gaze on him.

"Good morning, Companion. You do have problems with the couriers as well? I let my men at them for a bit, but had to stop them as our messages weren't getting through to the right people at the right time. I think it may have had something to do with me being captured. The damn messages about an ambush didn't get through to us in time."

Vilkas looked at Ulfric with shocked eyes and Ter'im snorted under his breath and twitched his whiskers in amusement. Vilkas shifted closer to Ter'im, still staring at Ulfric and as quietly as he could manage asked, "What's he doing in here?"

Ter'im answered back in a hushed tone, "It is his bedroom we're in. The man cannot live in one shirt and one pair of breeches alone, you know."

Vilkas rolled his eyes at Ter'im's sarcastic answer and poked Ter'im hard in the side. Ter'im flicked Vilkas's nose and then said quietly, "Love, I've got to report to Markarth to the court wizard Calcemo. I'm just going to be chunking a Dwarven helmet at him, getting the key to his excavation site, and coming straight back to you. The entire thing should not take me more than two weeks, especially on horseback."

"Alright, my love. I feel there's going to be a 'but' in there at some point."

"Yes, I just want you safe, my beautiful Vilkas, and I'd like for you to stay here with Ulfric and the rest of the Stormcloaks until I get back." Ter'im twitched his whiskers and pouted at Vilkas who melted under the look and mumbled out his agreement in a heartbeat.

Ulfric nodded sagely at Vilkas's agreement and was drawn back downstairs with news of another Imperial ambush.

Ter'im stroked his claws gently through Vilkas's mane of hair and leaned down to kiss his husband. Vilkas groaned and opened his mouth to Ter'im's probing tongue. They kissed languidly for several long moments, and then Ter'im pulled away with a tiny sigh and muttered against Vilkas's swollen lips.

"Whatever happens when I am gone, keep record of it and tell me when I return. Remember that no matter what happens, I love you above all else."

Vilkas nodded and kissed Ter'im one more time before rolling out of bed and yanking his armor on quickly. Vilkas redressed Ter'im in his armor carefully and pressed a kiss the Gauldur Amulet and accompanied Ter'im to the city gates.

"Be safe love. Return to me."

"Wild dragons couldn't keep me away my Vilkas."

Ter'im's last sight as he strode out into the blizzard was his burly love being wrapped up in a cloak by Ulfric Stormcloak, Skyrim's new High King.


	6. Chapter 6

Alrightie, here we go with more of Ter'im's adventures. I'm basing this off of my own gameplays, and I'm trying fit in all the places as if I were playing, like this is where I would go in my own gameplay. Anyways, enjoy.

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Ter'im got good time riding, stopping in Whiterun to inform Farkas and the other Companions that he was alive, trading off his bulky dwarven armor for some patched up ebony armor he'd looted and brought to Eorlund, and stocking up on plenty of health potions. He continued on, ignoring the occasionally bear and wolf pack that loved to jump out and spook his horse at the worst times.

A shudder racked up and down Ter'im's spine as he neared Reachcliff cave, and he twisted the ring he wore on his thumb and smiled darkly as he remembered the day he gained the ring. Markarth never seemed to change, the same thrown together market at the front gates, the Silverblood Inn with its drunkards, and the Understone Keep set back into the cliff face all remained unchanged from the day Ter'im left and vowed never to set foot in again.

Ter'im shielded his face against the harsh sun and hurried to the shadow the ledge leading to the keep provided. His ear flicked backwards as he passed a guard and heard the guard mutter about 'filthy half bloods in Skyrim'. Ter'im twitched his whiskers and made a note of the guard should his blade get thirsty.

Once inside the cool earthy palace, he veered sharply to the left, picking his way across rubble and mounds of dirt. He spotted the foul mannered man in seconds and picked his way over to the temperamental court wizard.

"What, what? I told you I'm not accepting any more guards, not after the other ones died anyway. What is it with people disrupting my very important research?! Now, if you'll excuse me I have important business to attend to."

Ter'im's hand was on his dagger when he took a deep breath and waited.

"Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. I just keep running into problems with the dig site and my research. What can I help you with?"

"Calcelmo sent a letter to Ter'im wanting a Dwarven helmet. Ter'im has come to deliver the helmet and get back to his husband, yes."

The Altmer looked up in surprise.

"Ah, yes, I did. Do you still have it?"

Ter'im resisted the urge to face palm and pulled the helmet out of his pack.

"Yes, yes this is exactly what I need. Are you willing to sell it?"

"Of course, of course Ter'im is willing to sell, how about 250 gold?"

"I- uh, that's quite a bit I mean I could always-,"

Ter'im flashed the dagger under the weak light of the palace.

"Right, right, here's 250 gold. Pleasure doing business with you. While you're here, could you maybe take a look at the excavation site? Seems a frostbite spider named Nimhe has eaten the other researchers I had hired."

Ter'im held a hand out for the key. "Ter'im will take a look at it the next time he's in Markarth. Important things must be taken care of first."

Calcelmo grumbled a bit at that and this time, Ter'im completely unsheathed his dagger. He pressed the tip of it into Calcelmo's nose, ignoring the trickle of red that followed.

"Do not test me Altmer. Ter'im's blades will shine with your blood if you are foolish enough to test him. Now, Ter'im will make his way out of this skeever dump of a city and you will go back to your research, and maybe one of us will live to see another day."

Calcelmo nodded against the dagger and Ter'im spun on his heel and made his way back out of the city. He nearly strode right by the stables and left his horse, remembering the poor thing after he got halfway down the stone bridge. Ter'im trekked back with a huff, got on his horse this time and then continued on his journey. Surprisingly, the trip had not been very bad so far. He'd only been gone eight days out of the promised fourteen and felt he could make it back to Windhelm with a day or two to spare.

That was, until he met the Thalmor soldiers along the side of the road heading back into Morthal. Ter'im saw the haggard prisoner stumbling along the path and took two seconds to swing off the horse and unsheathe his warhammer. He flung some leather armor and a steel sword at the prisoner after he'd cut the bonds and took out the first guard before the elf knew what hit him. The prisoner shrugged into the armor and took after the second guard, leaving the magic wielder to Ter'im. The Thalmor caught Ter'im with a strong bolt of lightning, snatching his breath away in an instant and causing his heart to skip.

Ter'im gritted his teeth and dove to the side, just narrowly avoiding another lightning bolt. He swung up with his hammer to catch a thin eleven blade and knock it from its path of diving between his ribs. The Thalmor may have been cowardly dogs, but they did put stock in their training. The agent swung harder at Ter'im, the blow just barley being deflected at the last moment and glancing off of Ter'im's gauntlets.

Another blow and Ter'im felt the hammer leave his fingers. Ter'im cursed and scrambled after the blade, but stopping when he took another bolt in his side. Ter'im's left hand tingled and he'd lost the feeling in a couple of fingers. Ter'im danced away from the blade again and delved into his spells, hastily throwing up a ward, then sending a fireball that exploded in the elf's face.

While the agent recovered from the attack, Ter'im darted out and scooped up his hammer and swung it through the agent's skull, spattering brains and blood across the cobbled road. The body slumped to the ground with a slick noise and Ter'im wrenched his hammer from what was left of the elf's head. Ter'im then looked up, suddenly aware of the lack of noise and found that the prisoner had managed to survive. The prisoner stepped forward and grasped Ter'im's hand in his.

"Thank you so much, brother. Perhaps we'll meet in Sovngarde someday?"

Ter'im twitched his whiskers amused. "Perhaps we will. Be careful on the roads, stranger. Ter'im does not want to find you dead from a bandit attack. You wouldn't have happened to see a horse, would you?"

The prisoner shook his head, "It spooked and ran when the lightning started."

Ter'im nodded and pulled off his mask to scratch a hand over his face. He still couldn't feel his left hand and he was shaking all over.

"Damn storm mages." He muttered under his breath before bidding the prisoner goodbye and limping his way back to Morthal.


	7. Chapter 7

Okay guys, I realize that it's been a bit since I posted and I apologize, but this chapter turned out massive and I wrote it all at once before I decided to split it into three parts. So, here you go, a little present in the form of three new chapters at once.

-JazzyKat

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It was of no surprise to Ter'im the townsfolk stared at him as he limped through the town toward the alchemist's shop. He smirked under his mask and contemplated spooking the nosy passersby, but decided against the trouble it would cause with the guards.

He managed to get into the Thaumaturgist's Hut and barked out an order of shock resistance potions and potions ingredients to replace his dwindling supply. Lami, the girl tending the shop merely raised an eyebrow at him before slowly gathering his order together. The wooden door creaked open behind him and Ter'im turned around to catch sight of a stocky, but well built Nord.

"Ah, Benor, here are those Rockjoint cures you asked for." Lami called, abandoning Ter'im's potions and hurrying to give the newcomer their goods. Ter'im felt his eyebrow begin twitching and his fingertips frosted over for the briefest of seconds until he heard the Nord speak.

"Lami! I am fine and can wait. My friend here, however, cannot. I'm sure he'd like to get his potions and get back home to his spouse as quickly as possible. Besides, it's rude to abandon a customer like that."

Lami hung her head and handed Ter'im the bundle with her eyes downcast. Ter'im nodded stiffly at Benor and muttered a quiet word of thanks to Lami. Ter'im managed to make his way back outside and halfway to the Jarl's longhouse when he heard a call behind him.

"Stranger! Wait up for a moment. Let us go and grab some mead at the inn. I apologize for Lami's behavior. I do not know what has gotten into her. Ever since that house at the edge of town burned, she's been harsher and more irritable toward people."

"A bit of mead sounds wonderful, actually. Do not worry about it, Ter'im is used to being treated unkindly in this cold land. You say Lami has been worse since that house burned? Who lived in the house?"

"That my friend I do not know. But, as for the mead, only the best is served here at Moorside Inn." Benor showed Ter'im up the steps and ushered him into the warm inn. Ter'im observed the sparse crowd, his whiskers twitching under his mask as he waited on Benor to order their drinks.

At the bar, the innkeeper, Jonna, seemed quite keen on offering the town's latest scandal.

"Might suspicious that Hroggar's house burned down with his wife and kid inside and the next day, he's wrapped up in Alva's furs. Never did trust Alva, always seemed shifty to me. Oh, well, nothing much I can do about it anyway. What can I get for you two?"

Ter'im's ears perked at the gossip and made a note to inquire about Hroggar and the shifty Alva, but he pushed his interest aside long enough to order some spiced wine. Benor ordered himself the standard Nord mead and pushed Ter'im along to a table, far enough away from the wailing bard. Ter'im winced as the orc butchered a high note, pulled his mask of and fixed Benor with an incredulous stare.

Benor didn't much more than raise an eyebrow at Ter'im's bare face and simply took a sip of his mead after commenting dryly, "He sounds alright once you're drunk enough."

Ter'im wrinkled his nose and sipped at his wine, coughing at little at the sour taste. Benor patted him on the back and handed him a piece of honeybread. Ter'im nodded his thanks and dipped the bread down into his cup.

"What's his name?" Ter'im asked absently, choking when he heard Benor's answer, suddenly feeling the contract paper burning a hole in his pocket.

"Name's Lurbuk. Can't sing for much, really."

Ter'im's blood ran cold and his mind started racing even as he heard the dry harsh voice whisper through his ears, "_Kill him my listener, I have commanded it."_

A jolt at his elbow had Ter'im shaking the voice off and snapping back to attention to where Benor was clumsily mopping up some spilled mead. Ter'im pushed the voice out of his mind with some effort and turned his attention back to Benor.

"Perhaps you should go see the Jarl if the burned house bothers you so much, friend. I'm sure she'll have a well enough explanation to suit your needs," the Nord offered around a mouthful of horker.

Ter'im clapped Benor on the back in thanks and headed back out into the cold air. He found the Jarl's longhouse easily enough and clambered up the wooden steps as quietly as he could.

Inside as Ter'im's eyes adjusted to the change in light, he saw an imposing, stern faced woman perched in the throne.

He approached her warily, conscious of the guard posted around the room.

"Hail there stranger. What brings you to my walls this day?"

"Hail, Jarl. I have heard rumors from here to the mountains about the burned house. May Ter'im inquire about the issue?"

"You may. I myself have had my suspicions about the cause of the fire, but I have to run a hold and don't have the spare time to go investigating. Perhaps you will look into this matter for me?"

Ter'im bowed, his hand crossed over his heart. "Ter'im will find the cause of the fire. What would you have him to do should he discover the true criminal?"

"Find enough evidence and I will grant you some of my guards to hunt him down and kill him."

Ter'im nodded his head and straightened out of his bow before turning on his heel and heading outside. The sun had fallen past the horizon and Ter'im took in the quiet night for a few moments.

'Better get this done and over with then.' He muttered under his breath, ducking around the sleepy guards that were halfheartedly patrolling the city. Ter'im found his way inside the burned husk with ease and looked around the ashes on the floor. He found a couple of rings, barely touched by the heat, some ruined books, a heavy iron pot and some scraps of cloth, but nothing of any major value or any evidence.

He stepped on a loose board by chance and saw the top of a chest under the floor in the corner. Ter'im headed for it, already pulling his lockpicks loose when he felt his fur stand on end all over. Ter'im paused; his ears cocked waiting for some noise and heard the faintest whispers of a child's laughter and the roaring of a great fire. Ter'im stepped toward the chest again, against his will and this time felt a cold shudder roll down his spine.

Another step forward and Ter'im bit nearly through his tongue when he saw the form of a little girl materialize. She giggled and held out her hand to Ter'im.

"Are you gonna come play hide and seek with me? That other lady promised to come play with me, but she said it had to be night first."

"Of course I'll play with you. You just have to tell me what you can remember about your house burning. Can you do that for me?" Ter'im asked, playing along and trying to act like he wasn't scared out of his mind.

"I'm sorry mister. I can't remember that much, just that there was a lot of smoke and the cold lady was holding me. Then I woke up here. You should come find me tomorrow night and we'll play hide and seek with the cold lady!"

"Okay, little one. Ter'im will find you tomorrow night."

The girl giggled and disappeared from sight. Almost instantly the air around Ter'im was warmer, and the sounds of the marshes filtered back into the night around him. Before he slipped off to sleep Ter'im scribbled out a quick note to Ulfric and Vilkas and promised himself that he'd pay a courier in the morning. Slipping out of his armor and crawling in the furs on the bed, Ter'im let out a deep breath and settled in to sleep on what he'd learned.


	8. Chapter 8

Ter'im woke to what sounded like a drowning cat and groaned, curling the furs around his head. Ter'im heard a chuckle and he rolled out of the furs long enough to see Benor with a bowl of steaming soup and a hunk of bread.

"Awful thing to wake up to in the morning, I can't say that I envy you. Did you find anything in the house?"

"Nothing of any use; burned books and scraps of burned cloth. Ter'im thinks he has found a lead though, and now he must wait until nightfall to investigate further. Is there a blacksmith Ter'im can visit?"

"Sorry my friend, you must make do with your equipment until you reach another city. We here in Morthal don't have much in the way of shops or blacksmiths."

"Ah, Ter'im has been spoiled by living in Riften. He is used to having everything at his fingertips. What can Ter'im do until nightfall? He has no wish to stay in here."

Benor laughed and answered, "Well, if you're lucky you can see if you can seduce some of the local women, but if you're into alchemy, the marshes around have abundant supplies of deathbell and fungus pods. The marshes are safer during the day, but you may have to keep an eye out for trolls."

Ter'im cursed and clambered out of bed to rustle around in his pack. He was running low on ingredients and his ears needed a break, so he pulled his armor back on.

"Ter'im supposes he will wander about the marshes today then."

Benor nodded quietly. "Come back to us in one piece, friend. Judging by your eye, this will not be the first time you've been exploring."

Ter'im grinned. "Beginner's luck for Ter'im. Perhaps if he survives to tonight he will tell you the tale."

Turns out the marshes were more than enough to replenish Ter'im's poison supplies. He saw an abandoned ruin and again felt the cold shudder lance down his spine, so he steered clear. Two trolls, five frostbite spiders and one spriggan later, Ter'im headed back to Morthal.

He sneaked his way to the burned house and saw the glowing form of the child once more.

"You came back! Come on, I'll hide and you have to come find me. Count to ten!" The girl exclaimed, clapping her small translucent hands together.

Ter'im obeyed and put his hands over his eyes, but peeked through his fingers to trace her path. Ter'im counted under his breath and then quickly followed her path that he remembered. Soon enough he found a small graveyard above the house with one small coffin unearthed. Ter'im reached forward with held breath and pulled the coffin open. Inside, a caramel colored skeleton rested against the side of the coffin. A noise brought Ter'im's attention and he swung his hammer out, catching a woman's arm. She gave a cry of pain and a hiss. Ter'im got a closer look at the woman and saw her eyes glazed over with hunger and saw the tell-tale signs of vampirism.

"You fool! You will soon be mine!" She growled and started draining Ter'im's health.

Ter'im jumped out of the way of her spell and brought his hammer down cleanly on top of her head, bashing in her skull and killing her. A blue flicker brought Ter'im's attention back to the coffin and he saw the ghost form of the girl lay over the skeleton.

"Thanks for playing with me. I feel sleepy now and I hear my mother calling me."

With that, the ghost faded and Ter'im let his hammer drop to the ground. He rooted around on the vampire's body, pulling off what little goods she had. Thudding footsteps alerted Ter'im to company and he straightened up and braced his hammer.

"Hold, friend, I saw what happened. I am Thonnir, Laelette's husband." The man called motioning to the unmoving vampire.

"I had thought she abandoned me and our son, Virkmund, to join the Stormcloak army, but I recently heard rumors of her being back in town. Come to think of it, Laelette was getting awful close to Alva in the weeks before she left. I have a feeling Alva's behind whatever's going on here."

Ter'im sheathed his hammer and bowed to Thonnir. "Many thanks to you my friend. I will alert the Jarl and see what she would have me do about this information. Though, if it goes the way Ter'im feels it will he will have to break and enter Alva's house. Is there anything he should know before he does this?"

"Yes, friend, Alva still lives with Hroggar, so be wary about sneaking into her house. You know Benor, yes?" At Ter'im's nod he continued. "Get him to run interference with the guard so you can get into the house. I will see if I can occupy Hroggar for you."

Ter'im nodded quickly and jogged over to Benor where he was leaning on the railing in front of the Moorside Inn.

"Benor! May Ter'im have a word with you?"

Benor stood and paced over to Ter'im in the shadow behind the building.

"Why all the secrecy, Ter'im?"

"Ter'im needs Benor to distract the town guard from Hroggar's home this evening. Ter'im has some unfinished business with Alva and needs to gather some evidence to present to the Jarl."

Benor's eyes bugged but he acquiesced. "All right Ter'im. But don't blame me if you are hurt or worse killed."

The lock on Hroggar's house was easy enough to pick and Ter'im paused for a moment once he got inside and allowed his eyes to readjust to the firelight inside. He straightened up out of his crouch once he was sure no one else was in the house. A quick look through the cupboards and on the tables revealed nothing until Ter'im saw the steps leading to the basement. He quietly crept down the steps and pushed gently on the door. It swung open soundlessly to reveal an open coffin in the middle of the floor. Ter'im peered in and picked up the small journal laying insides.

Ter'im flipped open the journal and read about Laelette's mistake killing Hroggar's family, her obsession with turning the child, and how Alva had been sent by Movarth, a master vampire, to enslave all of Morthal's population.

A scuffle on the overhead made Ter'im curse and stuff the journal into his pack before crouching and heading back upstairs using the shadows to hide his body. Ter'im barely breathed as he squeezed past Hroggar in the doorway and only fully relaxed when he was in sight of the Jarl's longhouse.


	9. Chapter 9

Jarl Idgrod looked up sharply as Ter'im opened the door. She motioned her guards to bar the door behind him and Ter'im felt his hackles rise at the look in her eyes.

"Well, stranger. What have you found?" She questioned sharply, giving Ter'im no doubt that she was the perfect candidate for Jarl of Morthal.

Ter'im took in a deep breath and answered, "Ter'im has found Alva to be behind the entire mess. She was sent by a Master Vampire to enslave all of Morthal, and in her plans she captured Laelette in her grasp. She turned Laelette into a vampire and Laelette became obsessed with Hroggar's child. After failing to turn the child, Laelette burned Hroggar's house and took Hroggar to be Alva's thrall. They were planning to use all of Morthal as cattle."

"Those are some strong accusations, stranger. Have you any proof?"

Ter'im handed Idgrod the journal and stepped back, watching the expressions flit across her face.

"If what you say is true, stranger, then Movarth must be dealt with. If you hurry now, you can reach his lair before the townspeople catch wind of the culprit."

Ter'im pulled his map out and marked the cave down. He noticed a guard whispering intently to another and grimaced, hurrying now to reach the cave before the people went crazy and started a mob.

As it turned out, Ter'im needn't have bothered trying to avoid the mob, as he found them gathered outside the cave. Ter'im rolled his eyes under his mask when he saw the people weren't going to do anything, pushed through the crowd and entered the cave alone.

Ter'im crouched down and pulled out his bow, notching a steel arrow back. He heard the creepy slimy noise of frostbite spiders and reacted too slowly, allowing one of the spiders time enough to poison him. He threw his bow to the side, deeming it useless for now and hacked away at the second spider. When it rattled in death, Ter'im picked his bow back up and continued on.

Deciding to take his chances with the higher path he crept along, his arm straining from the force he had on his bow. Ter'im finally came upon a ledge that overlooked a quasi throne room and spotted his first victim. He sighted and fired an arrow straight into the heart of the vampire sitting on the throne, then quickly moved out of the line of sight when the other vampires jumped to attention. Ter'im took his time in picking off the vampires, preferring to bait them into his arrows.

Once the vampires lay still in death for the second time Ter'im jumped off of the ledge and looted their bodies, vaguely feeling impressed when he noticed that he'd picked off Movarth with his first shot. He continued on into the lair, picking up anything of any remote kind of value. He turned a corner and saw a vampire and her fledgling feeding on a bandit. Ter'im waited until they had finished the poor soul off before killing the fledgling with an arrow between the eyes. The creator instantly looked up, alerted by the noise and advanced toward Ter'im's hiding spot.

Ter'im reached for another arrow to fire, but his hand grasped air and he cursed quietly when he realized his quiver was empty. Ter'im braced himself and cast a conjured bow spell, notching one of the arrows and firing as soon as it materialized in his hands. The arrow caught the vampire in her side, wounding her and Ter'im hurriedly fired another one into her eye socket. The arrow lodged in her brain and her dying struggled produced a spray of congealed, clotted blood.

Ter'im sat back to allow his heart to calm down and soon pushed back to his feet, avoiding the mess the vampire had made in dying. He spotted a chest lying innocently glinting in the light and quickly picked it open. In the midst of his looting, a blow landed across his side and threw him nearly across the cave.

Ter'im scrambled to his feet, words of power tingling on his lips in fright. Ter'im saw two vampires approaching and let loose with the shout, feeling the immense power reverberate through the room. Seconds after he let the shout go, Ter'im realized his mistake and threw himself under one of the beds the vampires had set up, barely missing being crushed by falling rock.

Hours later, he jogged back into town a hero, receiving a pretty chunk of gold from the Jarl. Ter'im gave into Benor's suggestion of staying one more night at the inn and Jonna accepted his gold greedily as she showed him to his room. All the while that dry cruel voice whispered in Ter'im's ears about fulfilling his contract and he waited until he could take the words no longer. Ter'im laid down that night, still fully armored and settled in to wait until Jonna was asleep. Around midnight, Ter'im heard her putter off downstairs and he heard Lurbuk muttering to himself in his room, trying desperately to rhyme up new ballads.

Ter'im unsheathed his trusty elven dagger he kept at his hip and snuck quietly across the broad main room, picking his path carefully on the old creaky boards by the dying firelight. He gently poked his head into Lurbuk's room and saw the orc had settled into bed and was on his way to sleep.

Ter'im held his breath as he crept ever closer, twitching every time he heard a noise from the inn. The voice in his head had grown steadily louder and it was all but screaming in his ears now, not even drowned out by the pounding heartbeat Ter'im was sure even Jonna heard downstairs.

Finally taking the plunge, Ter'im brought his blade along the orc's neck quietly and quickly. Lurbuk died with a gurgle and Ter'im made sure to paint the black hand mark on the wall above the rapidly cooling body. With regret in his eyes he headed out of the city and once he was quite a bit away, he imagined that he could hear the shrill screams of Jonna when she discovered Lurbuk's dead body.


	10. Chapter 10

Yay, another chapter. I love you and I didn't forget about it.

-Jazzy

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Ter'im stopped for a short time in Whiterun and checked in on Lydia and Breezehome, finding some time to check back in with Eorlund and Farkas. Eorlund was as happy as ever to do business and agreed quite quickly to repair Ter'im's armor and weapons. Ter'im left the man to his work, still feeling the heavy influence of Kodlak's spirit over the flames of Skyforge, and headed into Jorrvaskr. Farkas was buried in a mug of mead when he spotted Ter'im in the door way and Ter'im cringed at how close he was to dumping the entire flagon in the floor rushes when he jumped to his feet.

"Brother! How are you? Did Vilkas find you alright? What happened?" Farkas asked in one breath as he tried his hardest to squeeze Ter'im in two.

"Farkas… can't breathe!" Ter'im squeaked, sighing in relief when he was set back down on his feet.

Farkas just shifted on his feet, waiting on Ter'im to speak. Ter'im just shook his head and nodded toward the living quarters. Understanding flashed in Farkas's eyes and he led Ter'im downstairs away from the prying eyes of the rest of the Companions.

Once inside Kodlak's old chambers, Ter'im looked around and grimaced. Farkas noticed his face and explained quietly, "He was our leader once Ter'im and we respected his place. You lead us now and we will always give you the privacy you need."

Ter'im smiled half-heartedly and motioned for Farkas to sit down on the bed beside him.

"Ter'im has seen better days, of this he is sure. Vilkas found Ter'im recovering in the very heart of Stormcloak territory and is holed up in the frigid castle with Ulfric."

"The High King himself!? And you trusted them alone together?!" Farkas asked, grasping Ter'im's shoulders.

"Of course Ter'im trusted them alone, and if he returns to find one or both of them harmed Ter'im will be one unhappy man. By you calling him the king, Ter'im trusts the Companions will support him in the war? Ter'im knows Ulfric has many areas that need to be improved upon, but he promises to not leave behind his people."

Farkas let out a booming laugh, "Of course we support you brother. We'd support you to the ends of this world should you need us to. Listen, I can see this curse is faring you no better than it did Kodlak, and you have to know there is a way to rid yourself of the beast spirit for good. Look, if not for yourself, cure Vilkas. I know that should you both not go to Sovngarde together, Vilkas's spirit will hunt the realms for an eternity, daedra and gods beside. Cure the both of you and get it over with. Windhelm is not a large place, and rumors swirl as quickly as the snowflakes in that gods forsaken place."

"Farkas, if Ter'im's going to cure himself and Vilkas, Ter'im is going to cure Farkas as well. Farkas is Ter'im's brother in all but blood, yes?"

"Yes, but are you sure?"

"Ter'im has never been surer. Please travel back to Windhelm with him. Who knows, you might find a suitable mate along the way."

Farkas grinned at Ter'im and hurried to his quarters to gather his belongings. Ter'im reclined on the dusty bed, staring at the ceiling and he asked under his breath, "Is it truly worth it Kodlak, this life? Ter'im has tried to do the best he can, but he still fears the dark blots on his soul."

"Aye, brother, who are you speaking to? Have the lonely roads driven you mad after all?" Farkas called from the doorway, hefting a pack over his shoulder, smiling.

"Ter'im is merely thinking out loud, something Farkas has not learned to do yet, yes?" Ter'im answered, flicking his tail amusedly. Farkas laughed and together they set out for Windhelm, joking along the way. Ter'im quickly lost track of time, though somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered that he had three days left before Ulfric was going to send a search party for him, and he subconsciously tried to hurry. It was well dark by the time Ter'im spotted the city and he heard Vilkas curse softly behind him at the sight of the stone walls illuminated at points by lanterns.

"Impressive, isn't it?"

Farkas only nodded silently, with huge rounded eyes as they hurried their way to the castle gates. Outside the doors, one of the guards called to Ter'im.

"Thank the divines you're here. High King Ulfric was about to storm Markarth in search of you. Please, show him you're alive at least. If you need a place to hide tonight, you can stay with the rest of the guards, he'll have to take down half of his army to harm you at this point, so you should be safe."

Ter'im blinked surprised, "Thank you, soldier; your name?"

"I am called Dirk, sir."

Ter'im nodded to himself and resolved to tell Galmar to raise the soldier's pay. He pushed open the doors and was immediately hit with a solid body and two large hands closed around his neck, slowly squeezing in, cutting off his air supply.

"Ter'im greets Ulfric as well, he had a lovely trip and managed to ensure Morthal's allegiance to our cause. Ter'im wonders what Ulfric and Vilkas have accomplished." Ter'im choked out as sarcastically as he dared, considering the murderous expression on Ulfric's face.

Ulfric growled and Ter'im was reminded of why he was the bear. "Why did you not send word to us?"

Ter'im's eyes flashed and he thrust a crinkled piece of paper at Ulfric. Ulfric released one hand from Ter'im's throat and read the missive quietly growling under his breath. He then huffed and stalked off, closing the door to the upper chambers with a clang and Ter'im's heart sank around his toes as he heard the bolt slide into place.

Ter'im tore his mask off of his face angrily wiping at the tears that streaked his muzzle, turned on his heel and headed to the guard's barracks. Farkas looked confusedly at Galmar who shrugged back silently and held up a tankard of mead.


	11. Chapter 11

Yay, I've not neglected you guys after all. Reviews will be answered with cookies and love.

-JazzyKat

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Most of the guards jumped as Ter'im slammed into the barracks, but none commented on the furious tears that streaked down Ter'im's face. They just shuffled over to the side of the tables and poured him a mug of mead and continued with their gossiping. A wayward comment caught Ter'im's ear and his ear turned toward the voice before he could control the reaction.

"Heard there was a report of a dead orc up in Morthal; a bard and a right bad one at that. Rumor has it the Dark Brotherhood had a hand in the killing."

"The Dark Brotherhood? You must be further in your cups than we thought. The Brotherhood disbanded years ago, reduced to petty contracts and no gold," another guard snorted as she knocked back a bottle of wine.

Another guard chipped in, slurring and tipping forward in his chair excitedly, "Yeah, but it's made a comeback. After their main sanctuary exploded, they fell under new leadership after they took down the Emperor."

Ter'im just shook his head and smiled softly as he finished off his drink. Ter'im managed to stay awake for a bit longer, but soon succumbed to the temptation of a warm, kind of soft bed. He tumbled into one of the cots and fell asleep quite quickly, despite the coming and going of the night guards. A hand shook him awake the next morning and Ter'im woke up and recognized Dirk once again.

"Ter'im wishes Dirk a good morning. How goes the rest of the palace this morning?" Ter'im greeted the wary soldier, sliding out of Dirk's way to the cot. Dirk inclined his head in thanks and drew his helmet off before answering Ter'im.

"High King Ulfric stomped around the meeting room, shouting and raving at everyone until Galmar reprimanded him and the last I saw of the King, he was chopping at one of the practice mannequins. I believe the King sent your husband over to Hollyfrost Farm for the day, but he has ordered the rest of the guard to keep you from leaving the city." Dirk said, rubbing a hand through his hair, looking at Ter'im pleadingly.

"Do not worry yourself about it Dirk, Ter'im has a few more tricks up his sleeve than what you think he does. Is Galmar still in the castle?"

"Yes, I believe so. He and that big fellow with the strange eyes should be in the dining hall."

Ter'im patted Dirk on the shoulder, gathered his gear and slipped back into the dining hall, spotting Galmar and Farkas talking. Ter'im slinked over to them, nearly invisible and just as silent as he could manage.

"Psst. Galmar!"

Galmar to his credit did not look alarmed, nor did he change his expression as he hissed out of the corner of his mouth, "What, Dragonborn?" Farkas looked up from his mead at Ter'im curiously.

"Ter'im needs to check in at the White Phial, he has heard rumors of old man Nurelion finding the legendary phial and has a mind to go get the thing for himself. Can you cover Ter'im's ass long enough to retrieve the phial?"

"What are you going to do when the old man asks for the phial to use for himself? Surely you're not going to murder the old coot in cold blood are you?" Galmar grunted, freezing when he felt the sharp line of a dagger at his throat. Ter'im pressed the dagger in enough to draw a thin line of blood on Galmar's throat.

"Do not assume what Ter'im wouldn't do." Ter'im hissed.

"Very well, Farkas and I will field off Ulfric, but do not dilly-dally. He is angry enough at you as it is, though you are in the right in this instance. I will watch over your husband as well, now go!" Galmar promised, shooing Ter'im out of the castle with a wave of his hand.

Ter'im slinked through the shadows of the town, using some lesser known shortcuts to avoid the guards and the townspeople, popping up at The White Phial quite suddenly, startling Aval Atheron, who stood at the market stall closest to the shop.

Ter'im silently pushed his way into the White Phial and was witness to a rather heated argument between old Nurelion and his shop assistant, Quintus. Quintus backed off once it was apparent Nurelion was too sick to continue the argument, coughing between every breath. Quintus scurried off to find his master a tonic and Nurelion finally turned his attention to Ter'im.

"I apologize for you having to hear that, it just seems my apprentice doesn't appreciate the fact that I've finally discovered the location to the legendary White Phial and won't let me go after it."

"Ah, the Phial, yes. Perhaps Ter'im could look for you?"

"Perfect! The Phial is buried with its creator, Curalmil, in a forgotten cave to the west. Even in death Curalmil was a crafty bastard, and you'd need the skills of a master alchemist to get to the phial. Lucky for you I have just what you need to reach his final resting place." Nurelion reached under the counter and passed a bottle over to Ter'im.

The old man looked like he was going to natter on about the quest, so Ter'im hurriedly shoved his map under Nurelion's nose and waited until he'd marked the Phial's location down. Ter'im snatched his map back with a quick, "Thanks!" and sprinted back out of the market place. He stopped just short of the gate and dropped quickly into a crouch, becoming invisible thanks to Nocturnal's blessing. He crept silently outside feeling that familiar rush of adrenaline. He couldn't resist the urge to show off a little and brushed close enough to a guard to pick the gold out of his uniform.

Ter'im chuckled under his breath at how easy sneaking out had been as he straightened out of his crouch and unfolded his map. He heard guards shouting behind him, so Ter'im took off at a dead sprint through the snow, quickly downing an invisibility potion.


	12. Chapter 12

Yeah, so I totally this is not the way the quest ends, but I decided to add in my own twists for giggles. Enjoy!

-JazzyKat

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He slipped out of their sight easily enough and he stopped for a moment once he felt he was safe and unfurled his map to look for the cave Nurelion had pointed him to. Ter'im's chest was still hollow and it ached with every step he took, but he refused to apologize to Ulfric when he was clearly not in the wrong. Ter'im imagined Vilkas's warm arms around him for a few moments, and cursed when he felt cold tears leaking down his muzzle and freezing in the snow.

Ter'im shook the sad thoughts from his mind and tried to set his mind on finding the cave, but he couldn't quite put his usual enthusiasm into questing as he usually did. Inside Forsaken Cave, Ter'im made short work of the wolf pack that had taken residence, and headed through the cave into some more Nordic ruins.

"I hate these undead bastards, I swear when and if I die I'm insisting they burn my body." Ter'im grumbled under his breath as he yanked an elven arrow out of an unfortunate dragur. He cringed when he came upon a hallway and heard the sound of swinging blades.

"By Nocturnal why do I always have to find these wretched traps?" Ter'im cursed and moved through the trap, holding his breath when one of the blades passed by his nose so closely he could feel a wind off of it.

Inside the chamber, Ter'im perked up when he noticed a glowing word wall, and he approached cautiously, wary of the crypt that lay between the door and the new shout. He crept up to the glowing words and felt warmth as the word was whispered to his understanding, basking in the comfort of the Dragon language. Ter'im came back to reality when he heard a snarl and a weapon unsheathe from behind him and he jerked around to see three dragur advancing, their eyes glowing in the darkness. In the next instance, the crypt laying innocently between Ter'im and the dragur burst open with violent force, and Ter'im cursed loudly when another Dragur rose slowly stood to its feet.

Ter'im reached behind him for his war hammer and took a wild swing at the freshly awoken Dragur. The creature stumbled and drew its weapon before drawing deep breath and releasing a shout that stung as it hit Ter'im. Ter'im jumped off of the platform and frantically beat two of the other dragur back to death, receiving glancing blows to his sides.

Ter'im gritted his teeth when another shout reverberated in the chamber and in a moment of desperation let loose his own shout at the dragur. It stumbled back and seemed to take a few moments before it could attack again.

In the back corner of Ter'im's mind he catalogued the shout's effect, impressed with the new power, while dodging the side of a blade that was previously aimed for his neck. The dragur swung at him again and Ter'im flung an arm up to block the attack, causing sparks to fly from the contact. Ter'im swung the hammer one handed and cleaved the dragur's head off of its fragile neck in one clean swipe.

Ter'im stood surprised as the corpse slumped to the floor, then he felt determination well up inside of him and he charged at the remaining enemy, driving it back with a deadly barrage of hits, finally killing it up against a door in the center of the room. Ter'im stopped to gather his breath and leaned against the doors too hard, causing them to swing inwards and dump him on his back in front of a white basin.

Ter'im got back to his feet and pulled out the mixture Nurelion had given him. He dumped the potion in the basin and a door opened at the back of the room. Inside the room potions ingredients lay in numerous bunches and Ter'im gleefully shoved them all in his pack, figuring he could make a fair bit of gold off of them. Once the room was sufficiently bare, he stepped up to what he assumed was the White Phial, frowning a bit when he noticed it was cracked down the side.

Ter'im shrugged, grabbed the phial and headed out of the crypt via the hidden passages. He hit the ground outside and groaned when he realized it was dark outside. The journey to the cave was a short one thought, so Ter'im argued in his mind about waiting out the night before deciding he needn't make Galmar cover for him for much longer.

Ter'im scooted into Windhelm past several guards hurrying into the palace. He threw a hand at Galmar and Farkas and like the night before headed down to the barracks and collapsed on a bed and a warm body. Ter'im grumbled and then slurred out, "Ter'im is sorry for landing on his bed mate but is too tired to move."

The body under him laughed and then sets of hands started tugging off his armor. He allowed the guards to undress s him and tuck him under the covers, and in the morning was met by an amused Galmar who clapped him on the shoulder and handed him a mug of mead.

"Great show last night cat! Never have I laughed so hard in my life, but I thought for sure I'd have to scrape your sorry hide off of one of the walls. So, did you get what you were looking for?" Galmar boomed, pushing Ter'im gently up into the main hall and shoving him into a seat at the end of the table farthest from the glowering Ulfric and the confused Vilkas.

Ter'im felt a flare of pain in his chest and downed his mead to steel his nerves. "Aye, Ter'im got what he was looking for, though the Phial seems useless now." Ter'im felt dark eyes on him and he looked up to see Vilkas staring at him concerned. Ter'im read the anxiousness and the worry in Vilkas's eyes and nodded to the palace doors and mouthed, "Tonight."

Vilkas nodded to show he'd understood and Ter'im stood abruptly, heading for Nurelion's shop. Inside, Ter'im saw no one behind the counter, so he crept gingerly up the stairs and found the old man sitting in a chair before the fire, coughing heavily.

"So, have you got the Phial?" Nurelion choked out, gasping for breath.

Ter'im wordlessly showed him the Phial and Nurelion gasped, upset.

"This certainly matches all of the descriptions for the vial that I've read, but since this can't hold liquid, I guess we'll never know! How did you damage it?" Nurelion snarled then mumbled under his breath, "This is what I get for not going after the damn thing myself."

Ter'im growled back at the old man, "It was in this condition when Ter'im found it. You wanted him to retrieve the phial at Forsaken Cave and Ter'im retrieved the phial."

Nurelion waved a dismissive arm, "Never mind that, I doubt you know enough to actually damage the phial. Well this is certainly the end of it, now if you don't mind, I'm not in the mood for company. Please show yourself out." The old man chunked the phial down on a nearby table and shuffled off to bed.

Ter'im's hand was on his hammer when he heard the stairs squeak behind him. Ter'im turned to see Quintus looking apologetically at him. "I really do thank you for your help. I know Nurelion is a pain in the ass and I hate to see you walk away empty handed. Look, you and I both know who you preside over, and I know while this isn't a normal contract, we can make a deal out of this. You kill the old man, I'll make it look like he died and I'll restore the phial for you if you contract me to make potions for the Stormcloak army. I'll charge a moderate price and everybody's happy."

Ter'im carefully looked over Quintus, before pulling out a dagger and promising, "If you betray Ter'im, he will keep you alive and slowly drain your blood out to bathe in." Quintus nodded and motioned to Nurelion who by this point lay snoring.

Ter'im killed him with a quick stab between the ribs and cast a fire spell to seal up the wound before it bled. Quintus handed Ter'im a sack of gold and bustled around the shop, setting up Nurelion's death scene and Ter'im headed back out into the town, stopping to buy arrows from Oengul War-Anvil.


End file.
